Sorry, I Don't Speak French
by artistically-gay
Summary: Danny's being forced to help Ghost Writer's plan this year's Christmas Truce party. With each visit he makes Ghost Writer is always making some sort of comment on the Halfa. The problem? It's always a one-liner in French, and when Danny decides to find out what the ghost is telling him, Danny has no clue if he should be pissed off or flattered. I suck at summaries.
1. Sorry, Could You Repeat That?

Danny never got much of a chance to visit the Ghost Zone as much as he'd liked to when he was younger. Mostly because the majority of the ghosts there wanted to maul him. But now, after the whole Disasteroid thing that took place about five years ago, Danny made a truce with the Ghost Zone's residents and now the Halfa was more than welcome to visit.

Danny Phantom was currently on his way to Ghost Writer's because the writer needed help with something and though Danny asked for specifics, Ghost Writer simply said he needed help with stuff. So here Danny was, flying off to the ghost's lair with no context for what he was helping with. He was a little nervous though because even though he apologized a couple years ago at a Christmas Truce party for ruining Ghost Writer's story, it was like the writer was sort of tense around Danny.

Once arriving, Danny floated down in front of the front door and raised a hand to knock. Before he could even touch it, the doors opened to show a slightly aggravated Ghost Writer with a stack of books tucked under his left arm arm and a cup of supposedly coffee in his right hand.

"You're twenty minutes late, _Fantôme_ ¹," Ghost Writer said flatly, stepping aside to let Danny in. Danny stepped in, the doors quietly shut behind him, and the two made their way to what Danny assumed was Ghost Writer's living room.

"I didn't mean to be late, I had stuff to do and you kinda put me on the spot for this," Danny responded somewhat defensively, taking a seat at a small table covered with books and balled up papers. "You haven't even told me what you needed my help with."

Ghost Writer glanced over at Danny and shrugged, taking a long sip from his mug before setting it as well as the books he had down in front of Danny at the table he sat at. "Whatever, it's fine," he muttered loud enough for Danny to hear. "You're here now, and I guess that matters enough." He adjusted his scarf before grabbing a chair from the other side of the table and took a seat. "So, I need your help planning this year's Christmas Truce party."

Danny raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly foreward with interest. "So you're planning it this year? Never thought you as much of a party kind of ghost, much less someone who likes any kind of social interaction."

"That's the point," Ghost Writer grunted, resting his chin on one hand and grabbed for his drink—which Danny caught a whiff of and God did it smell weird—and took a long sip before continuing. "Everyone put it on me this year to plan it as a way for making up for messing up the Christmas truce a few years back which, I will agree, got a bit out of hand." He huffed and gave a half smile, looking into his mug. "Breaking the truce is honestly the dumbest thing a ghost can do. I'm just glad I wasn't in Walker's prison long. It's terrifying in there. He taunted me with an orange and put me in a cell with someone you probably wouldn't want to mess with." Ghost Writer shivered slightly at the thought of being there again and took a short sip of his drink before setting it back on the table. "Ugh, I'm getting off topic. Fantôme, I need your help with this because you probably have more friends now than I did both alive and dead, therefore you have better experience with partying and socializing and all of that other _connerie_ ²."

"Why couldn't you ask another ghost to help? Like Ember or Johnny and Kitty?" Danny asked, standing up and crossing his arms, tilting his head ever so slightly foreward. "I know you're still not entirely comfortable around me, which I completely understand. Wouldn't it be easier to ask literally anybody else?" Ghost Writer looked up at Danny for a few moments before giving a light smile and shaking his head before floating off the chair, legs changing to a ghosty tail in the process.

" _Êtes-vous toujours aussi mignon lorsque vous interrogez les autres, mon adorable fantôme_ ³?" the writer sighed before taking hold of Danny's arm and pulling the Halfa along to the kitchen. Apparently Ghost Writer's mug was empty and he didn't exactly trust Danny alone and out of his sight in his own home. "I have my reasons, _Fantôme_. Let's just leave it at that for now."

Danny let himself be pulled along as he furrowed his brows in confusion. "What did you just say?"

"I said that I have my reasons-" Ghost Writer began with an annoyed tone before getting cut off in the middle of repeating himself.

"No no no, I mean the French thing. What did you say?"

"Well, if I wanted you to know then I would have said it in English, _mon petit chou_ ⁴," Ghost Writer retorted with a smirk that gave Danny goosebumps along his back. Not the bad 'this guy is planning something evil' kind but the 'damn that look is pretty hot' kind. Danny shook away the thought before he started blushing. Instead the Halfa continued the argument to keep his mind wandering off to whatever he was probably gonna think about.

"See, there it is again! God, is this what parents feel like when their twin kids use a secret language to talk to one another without getting caught? Cause it sucks," he joked, finishing his sentence just as he and Ghost Writer entered the kitchen. Ghost Writer let go of Danny's arm and floated over to a cupboard and opened it, taking out a packet of instant hot chocolate and three small Five-Hour Energy bottles. Oh God, so that's what was in the mug? ...Ew.

Ghost Writer filled the mug with the bottles and a little bit of tap water before opening the cocoa packet and dumping the contents in, stirring the heinous mixture, and putting it in the microwave and timing it for two minutes. When done preparing his drink, Ghost Writer turned back to facing Danny with an amused look.

"Shouldn't you have taken a foreign language class by now, _Fantôme_? When we first met you seemed no older than a tenth year student." Ghost Writer leaned slightly against the countertop, waiting for a response.

"Well duh," Danny answered, placing his hands on his hips, "it's a graduation requirement. But I took Spanish instead of French and it wasn't until now that I regret making that decision." Ghost Writer chuckled and Danny let out an annoyed huff in response.

The rest of the time it took for Ghost Writer's drink to warm up was filled with a surprisingly comfortable silence. The microwave beeped and Ghost Writer took out the mug and stirred the drink a little bit more, looking over at Danny once more. "I'll get decorations and snacks and all of that, but I need you to put together music and games and basically everything else."

"Hey, I didn't even agree to helping you," Danny pointed out, taking his hands off his hips and leaning back slightly against the counter. "Are you completely sure you want my help? I'm still not the biggest fan of Christmas, even after I learned my lesson and lightened up a bit. How do you know it won't end up being terrible?"

" _Fantôme_ , I said I have my reasons. Just trust me on this when I say I need your help for the stupid party." Ghost Writer floated to be at eye level with the Halfa and though his expression was serious, the ghost's jade green eyes were pleading for Danny to agree. Danny's toxic green eyes narrowed slightly before he sighed with defeat. "Fine, I'll help you. But I need you to put effort into your part. Everyone put this on you to do." Ghost Writer smiled and he relaxed a bit, his ghostly tail shifting back into legs as he set foot on the floor.

"Good. I knew I could count on you for at least this. Now if you'll excuse me," Ghost Writer grabbed Danny's hand and pulled the Halfa off to the front door, "I've got another visitor coming over and I'd prefer if it were only them and I. We can go over more of this, let's say, tomorrow around noon? Great! _Au revoir_ ⁵ _, Fantôme_." Not waiting for a response or answer, Ghost Writer pushed Danny out the door and closed it behind the Halfa. With a sigh and a light shake of his head, Danny took off back to his home.

"I'm gonna find out what he said, one way or another," Danny noted to himself.

• • •

"Sam, Tucker, you guys took French in highschool, right?" Danny asked as the three sat in Danny's room, each doing their own thing. Sam was sitting at the foot of Danny's bed and had a purple leather bound book in her lap, a little more than half of the pages already read. Tucker sat at Danny's desk, typing away on his PDA. Danny himself was sitting at the head of his bed, writing stuff down of a sheet of paper.

The three had still stayed the closest of friends throughout their highschool years. Though Danny and Sam had broken up after six months in their relationship—which had shocked everyone, they seemed like the perfect couple and everyone saw how much they pined over one another—it was pretty mutual and they remained in good spirits.

After highschool, they'd all gone off to do their own thing. Sam spent the past four years traveling the states to help out more with the causes she was supporting when she finally actually looked into what she'd been defending since freshman year. Ticker went off to a university in California for programming and videogame designing. After four years of college and graduating, Tucker returned and took it easy, becoming a part-time teacher at Casper High and helping develop videogames in his spare time. Danny went to the local college in Amity Park, keeping close to keep his hometown safe from any rogue ghosts and hang out with the ghosts he made friends with.

"Yeah, but I honestly don't remember much from that class," Tucker answered, looking up from his electronic. Though the techno geek didn't gain much muscle, he had a great increase in height and was now, when standing, 6' 2. He still kept his red cap he wore when he was younger, but traded his yellow long sleeve and cargo shorts for an orange t-shirt, a white long sleeve undershirt, and blue jeans with the ends frayed a bit.

Sam didn't look up from her book when she answered, "Yeah, it was one of the few classes I actually enjoyed." Sam had grown a few more inches, but wasn't too noticeably taller unless you knew her when she was young. She wore a black tank top with a dark purple hoodie with grey mid-thigh shorts and torn black leggings. Her hairstyle had changed to a pixie cut and she wore dark blue lipstick and eyeliner. "Why are you asking?"

"I need a bit of help with translation," Danny replied, setting the paper aside and putting the pen he was writing with behind his ear and sat up a bit straighter. Danny's height, unlike Sam's, was the most noticeable of the trio. Though he wasn't as tall as Tucker, being small and lanky most of your life and suddenly hitting 5'8 and gaining muscle—mostly from fighting ghosts over the years but who's keeping track of that—is quite the shock. Along with the height, Danny's hair grew out a bit in the back and rather than cut it, the Halfa kept the few inches of hair tied up in a loose ponytail with Sam's old neon green hairband. He wore a dark green t-shirt with a yellow and white star pattern on the front and black skinny jeans. Where his skin wasn't covered, which currently were his arms, you could see scars of varying sizes and different colorations depending on how old and deep the marks were. All of them were gained from the hundreds of ghost fights he'd been in over the years.

"What do you need translated, Danny?" Sam asked, finally looking up from her book and marking her place by slightly folding the upper corner of the page she was on.

"It's just a couple of phrases someone said to me. I'm sure you guys remember I took Spanish so if either of y'all can tell me what he said I'd appreciate it." Danny swing his legs over the bed and got off, standing up on his bedroom floor. "The one I can remember better was something like 'mon peteet show' maybe? The other was too long but I'm almost sure there was the word 'adorable' thrown in there." Danny looked to his friends for an answer and while Tucker nodded and went to look up a translation on his PDA, Sam only gave an amused smile and a raised eyebrow.

"The phrase you're thinking of is _mon petit chou_ , Danny," Sam began with a small laugh. "And a guy told you this?"

"Uh, yeah. Sort of a long story which I can explain later, but apparently it means something funny according to your expression," Danny answered feeling a bit worried.

"I mean, it's technically a term of endearment but," Sam laughed a bit before continuing," but in English it roughly translates to 'my little cabbage'." Tucker heard this and laughed too, putting down his electronic to look at Danny who currently had his brow furrowed with confusion.

"Why would Ghost Writer call me a little cabbage?" Danny wondered aloud before realizing he just said it aloud and looked at his friends nervously. Sam and Tucker had stopped laughing and one looked at Danny with surprise and the other with confusion.

"Ghost Writer?" Tucker echoed with a confused tilt of his head.

"The guy who supposedly put you in a "Night Before Christmas" remake and made you almost ruin Christmas those years ago?" Sam added.

"Look, let me explain," Danny began, taking a seat back on the bed as he began with how Ghost Writer wanted Danny to come over and help with something.

• • •

Ghost Writer closed the doors behind Danny with a sigh. Waiting a few moments to make sure the Halfa was gone, the writer gave one more sigh of relief before turning around and cupped a hand to his mouth and said, "Alright, you can stop hiding, he's gone."

From another room Clockwork floated out in his child form, his expression mostly neutral but his red eyes bright with content. His hood was down unlike usual and it showed soft and short hair combed back, the sides cut a lot shorter than the top.

"Thank you, Ghost Writer," Clockwork said as he floated over to the other. "I promise you that this is for the best for both you and Daniel to take this path."

"I don't see what importance there is to planning a Christmas party together, but if it's getting you to get out that clock tower of yours to see somebody like me, then I won't ask questions," Ghost Writer said then took a sip of his drink. Looking at Clockwork he relaxed a bit and became a bit more casual. "It's great to see you again, by the way. Hardly anyone had heard from you in decades. Is everything alright?"

Clockwork nodded a bit, face still neutral but body a bit more relaxed as the time ghost shifted into adult form. "Everything is as it should be," he said ominously, the faintest of smiles gracing his lips as he spoke. "And please stop drinking that garbage, you have no idea how caffeine consumption like that can mess up your core."

"You can't tell me what to do, you're not my dad," Ghost Writer joked, taking an unnecessarily large sip from his mug to prove a point. Clockwork chuckled as did Ghost Writer before the writer choked on his drink and ended up in a coughing for that lasted a good ten seconds before the room was filled with silence.

"But seriously, please stop drinking that stuff," Clockwork said again, interrupting the silence. "I unfortunately have to take my leave, for I myself am actually expecting some unwanted but necessary guests back at the clock tower." Clockwork went over to the door and nodded downward as a goodbye before leaving out the front door, leaving Ghost Writer to himself and the sudden realization of what he told Danny when he slipped into French.

"Crud, I really hope _Fantôme_ doesn't try to translate any of that."

* * *

1: "Phantom"

2: "bullshit"

3: "Are you always this cute when questioning others, my little Phantom?"

4: "my little cabbage"

5: "Goodbye"


	2. Lessons Learned in the Language of Love

Author note 1: I use the headcannon that all ghosts can understand, speak, and read Latin because it's a dead language and ghost, being dead, just sorta *snaps fingers* know it upon death, so Danny gradually picked up on it because of his whole 'being half-dead since right before 9th grade' thing. This note will make sense in a couple paragraphs.

Author note 2: Please play the video link and listen when you see this: °  
watch?v=yU65Aivh-44

Thanks for giving your time to read this, enjoy the chapter.

* * *

"Ugh! This is like Spanish class all over again!" Danny exclaimed dramatically, flopping backwards onto his bed, pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. Sam only rolled her eyes in response, grabbing Danny's arm and pulling the Halfa sitting back up.

"You brought this upon yourself," Sam said with a smirk, various flashcards with French words and phrases in her lap. "You're the one who wants to understand the ghost that's flirting with you right to your face." Danny only groaned in response, shoulders slumping slightly as he did so.

It had been three weeks since Danny and Ghost Writer started working together on the party. And every single time Danny went to the writer's lair, Ghost Writer said at least one line in French that Danny had to constantly repeat in his head so Sam could translate for him. So far he'd been called 'precious darling', 'clumsy angel'—he didn't mean to knock over those books, Danny was just wanted to know what Ghost Writer's weird drink tasted like and the books were in the way of the mug—and was told that he 'looked like a kitten when he tilted his head with every single question'. So by day six of the flirting, Danny decided he should learn French to not only know what Ghost Writer was telling him, but to stop bothering Sam with translation and to give a response in French and hopefully catch the writer off guard. It seemed like a great idea at first until Danny was actually having to learn it.

"It's just difficult. Spanish was pretty easy because it's close to Latin and I can understand that because of ghost reasons," Danny rested his chin on his hands, looking down a bit, "but this just feels complicated. Some of the words don't look like how they're pronounced."

"But you're learning fast," Sam objected with a smile, picking up a flashcard. "It's been only two days and you already have a few simple phrases down. Now," she held up the flashcard up to Danny's face," What does this say, and what does it mean?"

Danny's sky blue eyes scanned over the small sentence then he straightened up a bit. "It says 'Je m'appelle Danny' which means 'My name is Danny." On the card, his name was written on a blank in black sharpie.

"Perfect! So you were paying attention yesterday." Danny playfully slapped Sam on the arm as the goth picked up another card. Danny could agree that he was picking up the language pretty well, but it would still take a couple months to learn enough to surprise Ghost Writer. "Okay, next one." Sam picked up the next card and Danny read over it.

"It says '()' which means... 'What's the problem with airplane food'?" Danny raised an eyebrow in confusion, not entirely sure if he got that right.

"Technically, yes, but it really means 'What the deal with airline food.'" Danny looked even more confused despite Sam's explanation.

"Why would I need to know this?" Sam only shrugged in response and Danny sighed, brushing back his black hair a bit with his fingers. "Did you find these cards online or something?"

"No, the French teacher Tucker and I had made these," Sam answered, shuffling up the cards a bit as her amethyst eyes scanned over the phrases. "I mean, they helped, so I can't really complain."

"Just give me the next phrase," Danny sighed, and Sam pulled a flashcard from the deck at random. "...It definitely says something about McDonalds," Danny said with some amusement. "I think the French teacher really liked food or something."

Sam raised an eyebrow and flipped the card to read it herself. With a frustrated huff of breath, Sam began to look through each card, tossing a couple over the side of the bed every now and then. It took a couple minutes before Sam fixed the cards that were still in her hand, which was now only a third of the original deck.

"These were the only cards that actually seem good enough to teach you with," Sam explained. "I'll have to find some online when I get home. Until then, we'll use this." Sam picked out a card and smiled, flipping it for Danny to see. "You're going to need to know this one if you wanna impress the bookworm."

Danny glanced at Sam before reading the card. He opened his mouth to answer when he registered what was written. Danny closed his mouth and frowned at the goth. "Sam, I'm not gonna need to tell Ghost Writer that I love him. Im just trying to get back at him."

"It's a simple phrase, Danny. Just say it and we can move on.

"Ugh, fine. It says 'Je t'aime' which means 'I love you'," Danny deadpanned, narrowing his eyes as Sam smirked triumphantly.

They continued to go over the cards—and Sam repeatedly kept on pulling out the 'I love you' flashcard, much to Danny's annoyance—for about thirty minutes until Danny checked the time and told Sam he had to meet up with Ghost Writer. With a quick change into his ghost form, Danny grabbed a notepad and pen from his nightstand, phased down to the basement, and flew through the ghost portal to Ghost Writer's.

• • •

Danny landed in front of Ghost Writer's lair and walked up the steps, taking in the view of the large building. Every time Danny came here, he seemed to notice more about Ghost Writer's home. The faint spiderweb cracks in the steps, the detail of the manes on the stone lions that rested at the front of the building, and the fact that the front wall was designed to look like books aligned on a shelf. Danny smiled to himself a bit, raising a hand to knock on the door. Before he could knock, however, the door swung open, only this time nobody was there to open it. Danny lowered his hand back to his side, confused, and floated in. He looked around the entrance, not seeing any sign of someone being there to open the door.

"Hey, Ghost Writer! I'm here!" Danny called out, though he didn't receive any response. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him, and the Halfa jumped and whirled around only to see nobody. "God, this is like a terrible horror movie."

Danny had gone into the kitchen, thinking that the writer was probably passed out at the dining table with various papers, crumbled and scratched out, surrounding him. It wouldn't be the first time Danny had found Ghost Writer like that. A week ago, when Danny had left for a moment to use the restroom, he came back and saw Ghost Writer sleeping with his chin resting on his left hand, the right hand loosely holding a pencil. It took forever to wake up the ghost.

Danny, unfortunately, saw no sign of Ghost Writer in the kitchen except for two mugs, one purple and one green. Did Ghost Writer make those? Danny moved over to the drinks, guessed the green one was for him and the purple for Ghost Writer, and cautiously sniffed it before taking a sip- holy shit it was hot chocolate and it was amazing.

Happily drinking about half the mug, Danny began to faintly hear music in the distance. Curiousity taking over, Danny picked up the purple mug to give to Ghost Writer if he found him and followed the music, carefully listening as it steadily became louder. Huh...had Danny heard this song somewhere before? After a few more seconds of careful listening, he found a closed door where the music seemed to be coming from. Should Danny go in? He didn't want to step in on something he probably shouldn't see. The Halfa was suddenly snapped from his thoughts when a voice began to sing with the music. °

"Les sages disent que seuls les idiots se précipitent. Mais je ne peux pas m'empêcher de tomber amoureux de toi."

Was...was that Ghost Writer singing? Oh God, it was! Danny had never heard so much emotion in the writer's voice, not since when he was trapped in that Christmas poem. He pressed closer to the door, heart beating a bit faster as he listened on.

"Dois-je rester? Serait-ce pécher, si je ne pouvais m'empêcher de tomber amoureux de toi?"

Danny smiled softly, relaxing against the door a bit as Ghost Writer's gentle but strong voice sang each line with meaning. He could understand small bits and was trying to piece together what Ghost Writer was singing about. Danny's sure knows this song and he's sure he's heard it before.

"Aussi sûr que les flots d'une rivière dans la mer, chèr ils se jettent, certaines choses sont ainsi faites. Prends ma main, prend ma vie entière aussi. Pendant que je ne peux m'empêcher de tomber amoureux de toi."

Wait...this was a love song. Danny moved off the door and looked down at the ground in thought. His eyes snapped up as the door knob gave a soft click and the door gently opened. Was something wrong with Ghost Writer's locks or something? Hesitating for a moment, Danny quietly pushed open the door, looking into the room. On the other side from where Danny was, Ghost Writer sat at a large black piano, faced say from the Halfa.

"Aussi sûr que les flots d'une rivière dans la mer, chèr ils se jettent, certaines choses sont ainsi faites."

The walls were painted a royal purple, and in one corner of the room was a queen size bed with a black comforter and a couple dark gray pillows, a black bookshelf that was about half the height of the wall, and a white dresser with a laptop and vase of white roses resting on it. Across from the wall the bed, bookshelf, and dresser lied at was a window that stretched nearly from the floor to the cieling, violet curtains covering most of the window. Oh crap, Danny was in Ghost Writer's room. Okay, nothing to worry about! Just turn around and- oh God the door is closed and locked. Fate must really hate him. With a sigh of defeat, Danny cautiously floated over to Ghost Writer, waiting a few feet off to the side and out of the other's line of sight. It was best just to wait until he was done with the song. And besides, Danny found Ghost Writer's singing oddly comforting.

"Prends ma main, prend ma vie entière aussi. Pendant que je ne peux m'empêcher de tomber amoureux de toi..."

Ghost Writer's voice and playing grew quieter, and Danny could tell that the song was just about over.

"Pendant que je ne peux m'empêcher de tomber amoureux de toi..."

Ghost Writer moved his hands away from the piano and rested them at his sides, leaning back a bit with closed eyes and a sigh of content. A few silent and peaceful moments passed before Danny finally spoke up.

"I didn't know you could sing or play piano so well."

Ghost Writer let out a very high pitched scream in surprise as he fell backwards off the seat, barely catching himself by floating merely a few centimeters from the ground. The scream caused Danny to jump a bit as well, nearly spiling the contents of his and Ghost Writer's mugs. Ghost Writer adjusted himself a bit before standing upright and landing onto the floor with both feet planted firmly on the ground. He pushed up his lenses a bit before giving Danny a sharp glare, crossing his arms.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" Ghost Writer scolded, Danny flinching back a bit with a nervous smile.

"Ah, well, I came over a bit early to get away from my friend and so we could get a head start with going over the playlist for the truce party," Danny began, holding out the purple mug for Ghost Writer to take—which he did, though the writer still held his aggravated expression as he began to drink—and adjusting his own mug in his hand, "and when I came up to knock at the front door, it kinda just opened on its own like in those cliche horror movies. So I come inside to look for you and the front door slams shut behind me which is really freaky and I think you might have a problem with your doors. Anyways, I went to look for you in the kitchen but instead found these mugs and guessed that you made drinks for when I came over. Oh, this hot chocolate is great by the way." Danny paused and drank more from his mug, not noticing that Ghost Writer now looked more intrigued that upset.

"Then I hear music and, I dunno, it could just be me but it felt like something wanted me to go find you instead of waiting? So I find where the music is coming from and while I'm listening the door to your room opens on its own and when I get in next thing I know the door is closed and locked." Danny looked down, running his fingers through his hair nervously. "I'm really sorry, I know that sounds like a stupid excuse but I'm being honest."

Ghost Writer furrowed his brows a bit before sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose a bit and muttering, "Of course she let you in," which Danny barely heard. Ghost Writer then began to walk out of his room, motioning Danny with his hand to follow as he drank from his mug.

Raising an eyebrow, Danny followed and floated behind, closing the door when he and Ghost Writer left before catching up to the ghost. "What do you mean by 'she'? Do you have someone else here?" Danny asked.

Ghost Writer looked over at Danny from the corner of his eye before shaking his head no. "No. You're the only one who's been here since we started working together." They made it to the kitchen and Ghost Writer set his drink down at the dining table. "I'm talking about my lair."

"Your...your lair?" Danny repeated with disbelief, not entirely convinced of what he was told.

"Yes. All lairs are just as sentient as a ghost or human to some extent."

"And your lair is a she?" Danny questioned.

"That's correct, mon chèr¹." Ghost Writer gave Danny a half smile as he leaned against the table. "Her name is Vidya. She's sort of like an overbearing sister but you learn to love her."

Danny smiled and looked up a bit with awe. Years of hanging with and fighting with ghosts and he'd never heard this information before. "It's nice to meet ya, Vidya!" Danny smiled, and in response he heard a jumble of notes that sounded like a violin. Danny laughed a bit, not noticing Ghost Writer's eyes widen and him almost drop his mug. "Was that her? The violin?" Danny kept looking around, continuing to listen to Vidya who, from the speed and pitch of the notes, seems just as excited as Danny was about the official introduction.

"Y-yeah, that's her," Ghost Writer stuttered, quickly trying to regain his composure. Once he calmed down, Ghost Writer took a few more sips from his mug. Maybe Clockwork was right about the drinks, they were making him a bit jumpy, especially with all the little surprises happening today. "So, you said something earlier about going over music from the party?"

Danny snapped out of his awe and looked to Ghost Writer, giving him a nod and he pulled out a notepad and pencil from a pocket he just recently found in his jumpsuit. He handed both over to Ghost Writer who gratefully took it and immediately began to go over the list, scribbling on the paper every few seconds.

"So what was that song you were playing," Danny asked, earning a quick glance up from Ghost Writer before the other's attention was partially brought back to the notepad. "The melody sounded familiar but I couldn't really understand the lyrics."

"Have you heard of Elvis?" Ghost Writer asked, jade green eyes not looking up from the notepad as he scribbled a bit more.

"Well, yeah!" Danny answered, finishing off his hot chocolate before placing the mug in the sink. "I don't think I could name a person who doesn't know the king of rock."

"Glad to know you have at least some culture then," Ghost Writer teased, smirking as he handed the pen and notepad back to Danny. The Halfa rolled his eyes but returned the smirk with a smile as he accepted the items and put them back in the pocket. "I was playing one of his songs. It's a popular one, I'm sure you'll figure it out, espèce d'idiot douce et adorable³." Ghost Writer passed by Danny, ruffled the Halfa's hair a tad bit, then finished off his own mug before putting it in the sink. Danny blushed lightly with embarrassment before fixing back his hair the best he could.

"I'll have Ember go through the list before I head back home." Danny turned to head to the front entrance before he paused, and idea popping into his head. "Hey, Ghost Writer?"

"Hm?" Ghost Writer acknowledged, glancing over at Danny expectantly as the writer was about to head off to his room.

"Do you maybe, uh, wanna just hang out? I mean," Danny paused, looking off to the side as he loosely crossed his arms, "we've only been interacting because of the planning, but I think it would be nice to hang out just because we can."

Ghost Writer have another thoughtful him before shrugging. "I'm not sure. I'm not-" He stopped suddenly, brows furrowing before he quietly whisper-shouted something in French, pausing again before doing the same thing again. This continued for a bit longer until he gave a defeated sigh, looking back to Danny. "When do you wanna hang out?"

Danny wanted to ask what the whole whisper-shout thing was about, but decided against it. "How about Saturday? Meet me at the Nasty Burger at noon?" Danny gave a hopeful smile, Ghost Writer sighing again.

"Just the name of the place is disgusting, but fine, it's a date- wait no, that's not-ugh! You know what I mean." Ghost Writer flushed a dark indigo color, trying to hide it with his hand, and Danny gave a laugh though it was slightly forced. Vidya gave a proud and happy trill and Ghost Writer glared at the cieling, blush gone, before looking back at Danny. "I've got to do some writing, so you're free to go."

So Danny left with a happy goodbye to Ghost Writer and Vidya and headed back to his home. Later on, while Danny was taking a nightly flight through Amity Park, he came to the realization of what song Ghost Writer played and began to feel that maybe Ghost Writer's flirting wasn't so much of a joke as he thought it was.

* * *

1)"My dear"

2)"you sweet and loveable idiot"

If y'all haven't caught on by now, GW was singing a French cover of "Can't Help Falling In Love"


	3. Stop Calling It A Date!

Special thanks to my sister for editing this chapter.

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Danny took one more look over in his bathroom mirror, combing his fingers through his dark hair and checking how it looked before messing it up once again with a sigh. "Why are you putting so much effort into looking decent just to meet up with someone for coffee?" Danny asked himself in the mirror, annoyed, obviously not getting an answer from his reflection. Today he wore an obsidian black t-shirt with a white and navy blue letterman jacket over it, dark blue jeans, and galaxy-patterned converse high tops. Just casual enough for getting coffee with someone you're planning a Christmas party with. With a shake of his head, he picked out a hair band from the sink cabinet and tied back any loose hair. Taking his phone out of his pocket, Danny checked what the time read. "Okay, I got thirty minutes. Guess I can walk instead of fly over there." He left the bathroom and headed down the steps before pausing halfway down. "But what if he's there early and expects me to be early too?" God, he hadn't acted like this since he and Sam had first started dating, why was he being so stupid over hanging out with Ghost Writer? It could be just because this is a normal hangout instead of planning things, but then again…

Danny shook away that train of thought and continued to head down the stairs. He really didn't want to think of the possibility of Ghost Writer liking him romantically, at least not right now. As he headed out the door, he caught his mom working on some new project in the kitchen.

"Where are you off to, Danny?" Maddie asked, looking up with her violet eyes from what she was working on and moving a pair of construction goggles from over her eyes. Whatever she was working on, it looked like some sort of taser.

"Just gonna meet up with a friend for coffee at Nasty Burger," he answered somewhat normally, leaning over to see the project, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What are you working on?"

"A ghost taser." Danny's assumption was correct. She picked it up, turning it a bit to show it off. "I know you still have trouble with that Skulker guy, so I'm working on a little something to keep him off your tail for a bit longer. I still need to work out a few bugs, though." the woman set it back down and picked up a screwdriver

"Cool! Can't wait to try it out mom! Well, I gotta go." He headed back to the front door and stepped out. "Be sure to avenge me if I die!" he added jokingly, closing the door behind him, barely catching his mom laugh.

"Will do, sweetie, Have fun!"

 **• •**

Danny eventually decided to fly to the fast food joint, changing into his ghostly form and heading off, somewhat taking his time. By the time he got there, it was five minutes until noon.

The Nasty Burger had only a few people casually hanging around inside, a small family taking up a booth and a couple of friends at another. It didn't look like Ghost Writer was here yet.

"Didn't see him as someone who would be late," he muttered. Or maybe he wasn't showing up at all, but Danny didn't say that out loud. He quickly whipped out his phone and gave a short glance at the time. Okay, Ghost Writer still had five minutes before he could be officially labeled as late. Danny walked over and picked an almost unnoticeable corner booth at the back of the restaurant, sliding into the seat and relaxing, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. Danny took a long look at the window and smiled lightly.

The autumn weather was finally kicking in, and the few trees that were in sight were changing gradually from green to various shades of red, orange, and yellow. The air grew mildly cold, a relief from the overbearing heat of summer. School had started up again, though Danny had already finished highschool and college. Now he spent his time keeping the city safe from any rogue ghosts that didn't keep up the peace truce, hanging out with the ghosts he'd managed to make friends with as well as Sam and Tucker, and helping out his parents in the lab with creating new ghost fighting tech. Suddenly, a familiar cold blue mist escaped his lips and Danny sat up, wondering what made his ghost sense go off.

"Sorry for making you wait a bit."

Danny was brought out of his thoughts as he turned to look where the voice came from. Sitting across from him was a man who looked no older than his early twenties, with pale skin and tired emerald green eyes, short and thick dark brown hair that almost looked black with messy bangs and a small goatee to match, and purple wire-frame glasses. He wore a dark violet turtleneck sweater, black jeans, and a familiar grey scarf. It took Danny a few long seconds to realize who it was.

"Ghost Writer? Why do you look...human?" Danny finally asked, a small and amused smile on his face. He relaxed a bit and slouched slightly and Ghost Writer rolled his eyes.

"Being a ghost in public tends to draw more attention to myself, so a friend of mine gave me a little something to help blend in with the crowd a bit more." Ghost Writer pulled down one of his sleeves a bit to show a simple metal bracelet with a small light that glowed an ectoplasmic green. "Again, I'm sorry if you had to wait on me, my brother had stopped by this morning and wanted to catch up a bit."

Danny was about to ask if Ghost Writer really had a brother until he remembered back from the Christmas poem when Ghost Writer said a line about a photo of his half-brother named Randy. Instead, he gave a small nod in understanding. "It's fine, I sort of just got here myself." A long, almost awkward, silence sat between the two before he added with a slightly awkward smile, "Ah, you look nice by the way, Ghost Writer."

Ghost Writer gave an amused smile and Danny looked down sightly and did his best not to blush because how the hell does someone look so nice when they smile?

"Also, I'd prefer it if you called me Andrew, especially if I'll be in public looking like this."

"Andrew," Danny repeated quietly, then mouthed it quietly as he tested out the name. He gave a smile and looked back up at Ghost Writer—now known as Andrew—and said, "It's a nice name. It definitely suits you." He got a small hum in response, the ghost-disguised-as-a-human's smile subtly growing more.

"Complementing my name _and_ outfit, and it's only been a little less than five minutes. You sure know how to charm someone, _mon cher_."

"Why do you do this?" Danny whined, burying his face in his hands as he blushed, the color an odd mix of teal and pink. _Mon cher_ meant 'my dear', right? _'Flirting with me, speaking French, and making me a blushing mess, and it's only been a little less than five minutes,'_ Danny thought. "Is it a French thing or do you just naturally like to embarrass people and make them a blushing mess in public?" Danny looked up from his hands a bit, an embarrassed smile on his face.

"Partly both, I guess."

As Danny was going to continue with another question, regaining his composure somewhat and forcing his blush away, a waitress came up to the table with a notepad and pencil in hand. "Hi, welcome to Nasty Burger, where we're just one letter away from tasty!" the waitress said as cheerfully as she could, though it was obvious she was already tired. "What can I get you two today?"

"Just a black coffee and chips for me," Andrew answered first, not looking away from Danny, only to get a small confused look from the waitress. He sighed and repeated with some annoyance, "Sorry, a black coffee and _fries_. The coffee medium and the fries small." The waitress nodded and scribbled it down before turning to Danny.

"And you?"

"A medium coffee with as much creamer and sugar as you're legally allowed to put in it and large fries," he answered with a smile, not missing a beat, gaining an amused snort from Andrew and a mildly concerned look from the waitress. She scribbled down the order anyways and headed back to the counter, giving the order to another worker.

"And I was told that my caffeine consumption was unhealthy." Andrew leaned back a bit, folding his hands over his lap, looking at Danny expectantly. The halfa gave a small laugh and shrugged.

"Being a part-time hero isn't easy."

There was another long silence between the two, the only noise being the background conversations of other customers and the slight rush of the employees in the kitchen making and serving orders. It was Danny who broke it by asking, "So, why did you agree to this, to get coffee with me? Not that I'm upset, I was actually afraid you wouldn't show up."

Andrew gave a small frown and rested an elbow on the table, then rested his chin in his hand. "To be honest, _mon cher_ , I wasn't going to agree at first but Vidya insisted I should get out more and she threatened to kick me out on the day you wanted to hang out if I didn't accept." His lips quirked up a bit in a sort of sarcastic smile. "Definitely like an overbearing sister."

"Trust me, I know just how that feels," Danny laughed, relaxing a bit and leaning back against the seat. "My sister, Jazz, studied to be a child psychologist when growing up and I happened to be a target for her psychoanalyzing. I think she even wrote a thesis paper on me." Andrew gave an amused hum that sounded almost like a laugh and Danny melted a bit. The writer's voice was warm and relaxed, just like when Danny had caught him singing last week. "I'll admit though, she always did her best to help me and I knew she just wanted what was best for me. And when she figured out I was half-ghost, she did whatever she could to keep it a secret from my parents and even waited until I was ready to tell her about it." He smiled to himself, adding a it quietly, "She's overbearing, but she's also always looked out for me, and I'm grateful for that."

"I'm glad to hear that you have a great relationship with your sister, Danny," Andrew said warmly, sitting up a bit and his frown from earlier shifting to an affectionate smile. Oh good, now they were officially on a first name basis. "Before Vidya, Randy was the one who took care of me and kept an eye out for me, both in life and death, and I'm not sure what and where I'd be without him."

"Alright, here ya go, boys!"

The duo's attention was immediately brought to the waitress from before, who now had their orders on a tray. She put it down with a tired smile and headed back to behind the counter. Danny and Andrew took their respective orders and began to eat, stopping every now and then to pass a couple of sentences to each other before continuing to eat. Andrew even tried Danny's coffee, face scrunched up from disgust after tasting from how sweet it was. Ten minutes passed and the two finished up their coffee and fries, paid for their food and drink, and headed out of Nasty Burger and to Danny's place.

"You know, I actually sort of enjoyed this," Andrew spoke up with a half smile. "Sure, I would have definitely preferred staying back at Vidya and work on some of my writings, but this was fine." His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jeans and his pace was leisurely, green eyes gazing up at the cloudy grey sky.

"Glad to know my company isn't that terrible, then," Danny joked with a light smile, looking over at Andrew, deciding to study the ghost-disguised-human's features. Just a little bit.

A narrow face and soft skin, face noticeably more full in his human disguise that gave the writer an appearance that made him look truly alive. Cheeks and nose noticeably tinted pink against vampire-like pale skin from the light chill in the autumn air. Emerald eyes that usually seem so cold and judging now warm and relaxed, partially lidded as they lazily looked up at the sky. Lips thin and pale, turned up in a soft smile as he continued to talk, even though Danny had zoned out after he had responded to Andrew. They looked...soft.

Danny was snapped out of his definitely not staring as simultaneously something sharp and shiny whizzed past between him and Andrew and another cold puff of blue mist escaped his lips. Danny turned around immediately, eyes narrowed and guard up and ready to go ghost if needed, while Andrew only gave a small and irritated sigh, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"So, you're the lucky guy who convinced my brother to leave his lair?" the stranger asked, a faint British accent in his voice, with an amused tone as he walked towards the duo. He had messy snow white hair cut in a similar style to Andrew's, lapis blue eyes that shone with curiosity and friendliness, a face slightly more rounded than Andrew's, and light grey skin tinted blue. He wore a light brown trench coat, a black turtleneck sweater, dark grey jeans, and black combat boots. He had a ghostly glow surrounding him as well.

"Randy, were you following me?" Andrew asked with a frown and a raised eyebrow.

The stranger now known as Randy scoffed and gave Andrew a playful smirk. "For once, _frere_ 1, no. Just wanted to see who you were on a coffee date with."

"It's not a date!" Danny snapped, face going teal-pink as he crossed his arms defensively. Andrew punched Randy on th arm and blushed, face growing a dark red with a purple tinge to it. "I-I just wanted to hang out with him somewhere that wasn't his lair!"

"If you insist, _petit mec_ 2." Oh _great_ , he gives nicknames in French, too. "Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself." Randy held out a hand and gave Danny a sharp-toothed smile. "The name's Randy. Older brother of Andrew, ghostly mercenary, enemy to nearly everyone alive and dead, and partial criminal of the Ghost Zone, depending on who you ask."

Danny glanced down at the hand offered to him and reluctantly shook it, giving Randy an unsure smile, still embarrassed from his hang out with Andrew being Andrew called a date. "Ah, I'm Danny. You may or may not have heard of me, half-ghost hero of Amity Park." Randy's eyes lit up a bit with immediate recognition and he looked over at Andrew with mishcief and disbelief.

" _This_ is the kid who you threw a fit over and stuffed into one of your poems?!" He pulled his hand away from Danny and barked out a laugh, Andrew's face darkening and he slapped Randy again, knocking the white-haired ghost over onto the ground in the process. Danny gave an amused smile and rolled his eyes, Randy continued to laugh on the ground and Andrew cursed something at Randy in French that Danny didn't bother with trying to translate.

"I had every right to be upset about it, Randall!" Andrew spat. "This brat destroyed something I was working hard on and didn't even apologize for it!"

"Hey! I eventually apologized!" Danny argued with a mock hurt look on his face.

"It was half-assed and you were drunk! That is nowhere near a proper apology!"

"Ladies, ladies, you're both beautiful!" Randy laughed as he stood back up, recieving a glare from both Danny and Andrew. "Well, this has been great, but I gotta go. I'm cooking tonight." He floated a bit off the ground and gave a smile to Danny. "You better treat my brother well, Danny.' He flew past the two of them, running a hand affectionately through Andrew's hair while passing, before dissapearing around the corner.

"He better not make a mess like last time," Andrew muttered, breaking the long silence between him and the halfa. He then turned to Danny and sighed, "I should probably go after him."

"I mean, if you have to," Danny answered with slight disappointment. "So, we'll meet up Tuesday at Vidya to go over decorations and which rooms to section off?"

Andrew only looked at Danny with an unreadable expression before giving a light smile. "That sounds fine by me. And maybe we can go somewhere after if we finish early enough." The halfa's expression brightened up significantly, eyes even glowing a slight toxic green. "Two o'clock should be fine. Just don't be late." With a subtle wink, Andrew walked the route that Randy had taken and disappeared behind the corner, too, leaving Danny standing alone on the sidewalk with a dorky grin and glowing eyes.

"Fuck, I think I'm in love with him."

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1: brother

2: little guy


End file.
